


Our Song (Baby Just Say Yes)

by dropdeadadorable



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 17:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dropdeadadorable/pseuds/dropdeadadorable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames takes everything a little too far, including love songs</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Song (Baby Just Say Yes)

Eames had a plan that would in no way fail. It was a brilliant plan, a plan that would make planners everywhere seethe with jealousy. It was a plan they would mark down in the dictionary, under the definition of what a plan should be. They would remember this plan when Eames was old, grey, withering away, and couldn’t remember much of anything anymore.

Eames.

Was going to play.

_Pop music_.

*

The first time it happened, Arthur wasn’t expecting it in the least.

He was the only one in the warehouse-or so he thought, and he was going over some ridiculous paperwork that seemed completely frivolous and would later end up being the most important piece of information concerning the job much, much later, because wasn’t that just how it went. And suddenly, Lady Gaga was pounding from hidden speakers.

“EAMES!”

A few rooms away, over the music, Arthur could hear Eames' snicker.

*

The second time, Eames was sitting in a lawn chair twirling his totem, bored out of his mind because it seemed that everyone had found something of vital importance to do and had abandoned him for greener and brighter pastures. He didn’t blame them so much… No, he blamed them. The people he worked with were terrible human beings. It was funny, see, because they were all thieves.

Luckily, Eames had gotten the speakers hooked up to a remote the moment he had had the idea. It was time to shake things up.

It took just a few minutes of Justin Beiber warbling happily about what a wonderful boyfriend he could be (it wouldn’t be hard for Eames to prove he could to better, but he was above stopping to the levels of children) before Arthur showed up and stood inches from Eames’ chair, looking crisp as always, save for a strand of hair that had escaped it’s gel prison and was clinging strongly to a life of freedom.

“I will make a list of new and creative ways to murder someone that no one has put into practice yet and I will test every single one of them out on you.”

He was incredibly attractive and adorable when he did that, Eames just wanted to pinch his cheeks. Or do other things to his cheeks and general facial area, tomato tomahto

*

The third time was _classic_.

Arthur walked into the room just as Eames was showing Cobb the remote. They were, of course, giggling over it like school-children, because that was pretty much what their maturity level amounted to, whether Cobb had two kids or not.

Eames pressed a button as Arthur watched from afar, the latter looking both interested and exasperated. As long as Arthur was aware that Eames was doing this _completely on purpose_ to see his reaction, they shouldn’t have a problem.

Another song started throbbing through the warehouse. The female singer desperately wanted someone to call her and also had no idea how to write lyrics, which is a shame really, because a song that had been at the top of the charts for weeks really should have some kind of lyrical content.

“This is messing with the work ethic, Eames. You need to stop.” There was nothing that could mess with the work ethic of the people they worked with that they were not coming up with themselves, but the less he pointed that out to Arthur the more he’d have a chance of saving all his teeth.

(His teeth were nice. He had given a name to some of his favorites and had grown much too emotionally attached to go losing them now.)

Cobb, still giggling, said, “Learn to take joke, Arthur.”

Eames figured it was better Cobb go than him. Arthur could probably lead the whole group by himself if he ended up murdering Cobb, anyway, Eames had trust in his beloveds abilities.

“Give me the remote.” He held out a demanding hand at Eames.

“I shan’t.”

“ _Give me the fucking remote_.” 

"You can try to get it from me.” And Eames fleetingly considered putting it right down his pants. But Arthur might just have pulled his dick off, which is something Eames did not want.

Arthurs glare could have leveled continents, and maybe Cobb wasn't laughing anymore, but Eames was entertained as hell

*

Eames knows he played a mash up of ‘This Year’s Top Hits’ at some point. There was a song he played that was either by a band called Cab, or possibly the song was called Cab, but they sang about love so it was appropriate enough either way. One of the last songs he played was a rap with a very obnoxious refrain about the artists “only girl”. Eames hoped that Arthur knew that Eames was both aware of his not-girl status and happy about it.

At one point in time, when they were out in the field, Eames could have sworn he heard Arthur humming the tune to Payphone. He counted it as a win

There was a point he hit, where it wasn’t so much that he was running out of options-there was enough bad pop music to power all the electricity in the world, much less supply Eames with what he needed. It was just that, if Arthur hadn’t noticed or at least caught on yet, he probably never would.

Eames decided Rhianna would be a good last-ditch effort.

*

The Rihanna did not work. In fact, all it did was get Arthur to do that really nice thing where both his eyebrows went up to his hairline and he tapped his foot and bitched with his eyes and it was both very impressive on a professional level and hot on a not-at-all-professional one. Not that Eames was complaining one tiny bit, but...

But it was not Eames’ intended outcome.

He needed to just give up.

*

“I’m just going to give up.”

Yusuf grunted, looking down at the row of bottles in front of him, brow furrowing. “I’m sure there is someone in this world that cares to hear you bemoan the failure of a plan that could never have worked to begin with, but I’m afraid that person is not me.”

Eames knew that, in reality, Yusuf was just a big softie. Well, sort of. The whole teddy-bear-on-the-inside thing was diminished slightly when you knew that he could slip you something fatal in your morning coffee and that you’d be dead on your desk before you were any the wiser. But Ariadne liked him, so that had to count for something.

“Thanks for the support, Yusuf.”

*

Eames gave up, dramatically and with flair, and then he spent the hour and a half afterwards rolling around and making upset noises loud enough that the neighbors below him probably thought he was doing something both illegal and sexual. It was that sort of building.

However, while he was rolling around, he did not order pizza, or demand anyone come over and comfort him (the number of people he could probably convince to do this equated exactly zero), nor did he want or need a hooker. So the knock at his door was a bit surprising.

The Arthur standing in his doorway was shocking, also. Maybe the whole thing was a hallucination. They weren’t unheard of when it came to massive heartbreak, he was sure he had read that somewhere.

Hallucination Arthur wasn’t wearing Real Arthurs typical suit, but dark jeans and a t-shirt that pulled in the right places. It wasn’t what Eames would assume that he would imagine Arthur in-he’d be happy to admit that Arthur’s suits played an important part in more than a few of his fantasies-but it’s not like he was complaining. At all.

“So,” said the Arthur. He sounded annoyed. At least that part of the hallucination was spot-on, good job Eames. “Yusuf said I needed to talk to you?”

Backtrack. Eames’ hallucinations were not good at all, bad job Eames, very bad job. Eames stood in his doorway and stared for a moment before moving out of the way so Arthur could come in. Whatever they were going to do, Eames would rather they didn't do it in the hallway where neighbors could see.“I suppose this means I didn’t make you up, then?”

Arthur gave him a look that very clearly said he thought Eames was nuts, which was probably more than one-hundred percent correct. Arthurs logic and reasoning skills, especially when it came to people’s mental state, was one of his many attractive features.

“That’s a yes, then, I suppose.” Eames sighed. Suddenly, he was too tired for this, and he realized dimly that it had just turned midnight and he had to work in the morning. “Listen, Arthur, whatever Yusuf told you-“

“He said you were in love with me.”

“Ah, well, yes, er. Um.”

“Yes? So you are in love with me.”Arthur looked smug, a look that Eames would be happy to think and disect at great detail later, alone. If Arthur would only _leave_.  

Eames tried to subtly step forward so that he could force Arthur to step back, enough that it would push him right out the door. And then Eames could close the door in his face. His plan was to do this, go to sleep and then, in the morning, if anyone brought it up again, he could simply deny it profusely, as that was the only acceptable option. The entire ordeal would then be over and done with. But when Eames moved, Arthur wouldn’t budge, the stubborn bastard. “Well you see," Eames began. "There are many different definitions of love, I think. And it’s really impossible to say-“

“Are you or not?” Arthur had crossed his hands over his chest and was looking at Eames, eyebrows raised just slightly.

“Um.”

Which was exactly the moment when Arthur kissed him. It was chaste, so quick that Arthur had pulled away before Eames could even think of responding. It was very nice though, in an Arthur sort of way.

Arthur did not blush, although it seemed, just a little, like he might have been wanting to. “That was unprofessional and probably a terrible idea so I’m going to need you to confirm, right now, that you don’t mind. Because, otherwise, Eames, I will leave.”

It felt like the perfect time to pull Arthur a little closer, enough that their toes were touching and their breath mingling, so it’s exactly what he did. “I don’t mind, Arthur. Good God, I don’t mind at _all_.”

Their second kiss was longer and warmer and softer but also harsher, and it was everything Eames had thought kissing Arthur would be in the same way that it wasn’t.


End file.
